


over the hills and far away

by vtforpedro



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flirting, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Thorin Has No Sense Of Direction, Wizard Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 13:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18575752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Bilbo meets a lost traveler and guides him home.





	over the hills and far away

Bilbo is entirely sure the Tooks will be the death of him.

Tuckborough might have been fourteen miles from Hobbiton but that didn’t stop the Tooks from calling an emergency meeting every spring that Bilbo couldn’t ignore. He knew the reason, as it was the same every year for countless many, yet he could not decide to not show up. If there were to be a real emergency and he hadn’t been there and tragedy had struck, it would not bode well for him or the rest of the Shire.

But is melon and tomato growing truly so important?

He supposes it is. The contests are nothing to shake a stick at throughout the villages of the Shire and the larger the vegetables and fruits, the more ribbons you take home.

The Tooks seem to think he’ll aid the growing of their prized melons every year and every year he must inform them that that would hardly be fair at all. He may have been fond of the Tooks but certainly not enough to help them cheat. Or the Bagginses, Grubbs, Chubbs and Proudfeet either, for that matter, as each clan tends to ask. Never the Gamgees, however, endearing themselves to Bilbo more and more by the year.

Bilbo sighs as he walks along the river at a leisurely pace. His staff presses into the soft dirt as he steps through the high grass on its shores and watches a school of minnows following his progress. He tilts his face up toward the warm sun in gladness that winter has finally been left behind.

The rolling hills of the Shire are once again a shining emerald, with ruby poppies dotting them here and there, and white daisies lining the dirt pathways. It smells of flowers and fresh water and Bilbo breathes it in, a sense of peace filling his heart.

“You!”

Peace that is easily broken it seems. He startles and turns to look at the pathway and at the figure stomping his way across it. The figure is dressed in a heavy, furred coat with a pack strapped to his back, a sword at his hip and wears dusty steel toed boots. Some of his clothing looks worn and old but others, like the coat, look fairly new and of high quality.

A dwarf, Bilbo realizes, and frowns as he watches him approach. The dwarf stops at the edge of the path, not coming any closer to the river’s edge.

Bilbo decides not to say anything, as he isn’t particularly fond of the way he has been addressed, and can see that the dwarf is frowning fiercely, even if his face is mostly hidden in shadows.

“You are a hobbit.”

“Good eye,” Bilbo says and raises his eyebrows. “How may I help you?”

The dwarf sighs and looks further along the river before turning back to Bilbo. “I have had some difficulties finding my way. I was told this place would be easy to find but it is _not.”_

“Bree?”

“Hobbiton.”

“Ah,” Bilbo says and smiles vaguely, gesturing with his staff. “It’s west from here. Follow the path you’re on and you’ll find it.”

“I have come from that way,” the dwarf says through gritted teeth, sounding particularly frustrated. “A long ways that way.”

Bilbo watches the dwarf for a moment, blinking a bit. “I see. I suppose you’ve missed it. Did you come from Ered Luin?”

The dwarf inclines his head, his hands restless at his sides.

“Then I’m afraid you’ve walked right past it,” Bilbo says, smiling more genuinely and approaching the dwarf. “About ten miles past it now.”

The dwarf eyes Bilbo as he comes to a stop on the pathway a few feet from him and glares back the way he came. “I saw no signs for _Hobbiton,”_ he says, nearly spitting the name. “There were none.”

“Quite a few actually and large ones at that,” Bilbo says, chuckling when the dwarf turns his glare on him. “I suppose rolling hills might be confusing to a dwarf who prefers the heart of a mountain. I’m headed to Hobbiton myself; you’re more than welcome to join me, Master Dwarf.”

He is quiet and looks down the pathway and back at Bilbo with his eyes narrowed. He finally inclines his head and turns only to stride off as if he’s known the way all along and hasn’t been hopelessly lost for hours.

Bilbo smiles to himself and follows after the dwarf, holding his staff at his side. “I’m Bilbo Baggins, by the by,” he says casually as he falls into step with the dwarf.

“Thorin,” the dwarf grunts and glances sidelong at Bilbo, his eyes lingering on the staff. After Bilbo gives it a bit of a shake, Thorin turns forward, his lips pursed. “Do you have business in Hobbiton?”

“I live there,” Bilbo says, huffing a little at the pace Thorin sets. “I was in Tuckborough, which is where you would have ended up had you continued on your way. The Tooks were very insistent that I help them with their vegetable gardens. They’re perfectly capable themselves but they drag me out here every spring. And send me home by myself, might I add!”

“Then why do you go every spring?”

“Because they declare it an emergency and I can hardly ignore an emergency, even if I expect it to be utterly foolish.”

Thorin slows down, glancing at Bilbo and raises a single eyebrow. “You are the Shire’s warrior?”

“Warrior!” Bilbo scoffs, laughing. “Hardly a warrior, though I do suppose I’ve had my fair share of scraped knees.” He smiles flatly. “I’m simply learned in the way of vegetables.”

“So you are a grocer.”

“You must be a warrior or a grocer and nothing in between, hmm?” Bilbo asks, chuckling. “I’m a landlord and a gardener and a healer, if you must know. What are you?”

Thorin continues to watch Bilbo as if he is… looking for something. He hums after a while. “Many things. Like you,” he says, looking forward and picking up his brisk pace. “You might name me landlord as well.”

“And what sort of properties do you own?”

“Residential. Business.”

Bilbo feels as if this dwarf is certainly not telling him anything near to the truth - or simply a very slight version of it - but he knows it is not his business and nods. “I own quite a lot of Hobbiton myself. Rather, I inherited it at some point and let someone better than I handle the paperwork.”

“As do I,” Thorin mutters. “Mostly. Sometimes I bother to read what I am signing.”

“Then you’re a smarter businessman than me,” Bilbo says, smiling at Thorin, whose annoyance seems to be easing. Somewhat anyway, if the tension lines along his forehead are any indication. The vein stopped throbbing at the very least. And now that Bilbo looks at him, he realizes Thorin is what one might call handsome.

A broad forehead, yes, very dwarf-like, with a narrow, pointy nose and thick, dark eyebrows. His black hair is streaked with silver and he has a closely cropped beard. A sign of mourning no doubt and Bilbo finds himself immensely curious but doesn’t bother asking. He’s been through plenty of his own mourning and answering the questions everyone seems to think they’re entitled to had grown old and sour very quickly.

Bilbo will merely admire Thorin and his immensely blue eyes from afar.

“Who are you on your way to see in Hobbiton?” he asks after a little while of attempting to keep pace with Thorin’s longer strides. “Longo Baggins?”

“A third party,” he says, a bit too enigmatically for Bilbo’s tastes, and Thorin holds his chin up higher. “I was told a hobbit might be able to answer my question… a specific hobbit, that is.”

“That sounds very mysterious,” Bilbo says while laughing. “I do hope you find who you’re looking for. Are you meeting them anywhere in particular that I can show you to?”

“I am not meeting them until tomorrow night. I was told there would be an inn to stay at tonight, which is where I will go when we have arrived,” Thorin says. “I am in the mood for ale after my journey.”

“And to think you’ve had more than one journey just today!” Bilbo says cheerfully and grins when Thorin turns to glare at him. It looks a bit more put on than it did earlier. “I’ll show you to the inn and be on my way. I’m in the mood for wine myself and I have a good year waiting for me in my cellar.”

“Elvish made?” Thorin scoffs.

“I made it, actually,” Bilbo says blithely, not bothering to meet Thorin’s eyes when Thorin slows down to look at him.

Thorin seems to realize his quick pace isn’t welcome and doesn’t resume it, for which Bilbo is grateful. “Then it cannot be an old vintage.”

“I have a youthful face, you know. It’s actually quite old. Goes well with blue cheese.”

 _“Blue_ cheese?”

Bilbo laughs at Thorin’s derisive tone. “Have you not had blue cheese before? Crumbly, moldy, delicious in a salad or on a cheese board.”

Thorin scoffs. “I do not eat mold, Master Baggins,” he says, sounding particularly bothered. “And hobbits live in holes, do they not? I was told they were not mold and worm filled.”

Shaking his staff in Thorin’s direction, Bilbo says, “I’ll have you mind your manners! Our holes are filled with only the best of warmth and comfort you can find. Not a speck of mold to be found. Except in our cheese. And the worms prefer our gardens. I was told dwarves don’t live in caves with no light but you do seem rather sheltered.”

“Because I have not heard of blue cheese?” Thorin asks, sounding fairly amused. “We dwarves often live in splendor and dine on the ripest meats and hardiest stews and sharpest cheeses. None with mold.”

Bilbo chuckles. “Perhaps you’d like to try it before you write it off to begin with.”  
  
“Is that an invitation, Master Baggins?”

Coughing a little and feeling his cheeks grow warm, Bilbo shrugs. “Perhaps. I’m sure you’ll be hungry after this. It’ll be two hours before we’re in Hobbiton yet and my meals are certainly less expensive than the inn’s.”

Thorin is quiet for a while as they continue walking. He eventually looks at Bilbo again with curious eyes that turn considering. “Do you have ale?”

“I do, actually,” Bilbo says and smiles. “Two barrels worth.”

“Then I would enjoy a meal with—”

Thorin abruptly stops speaking as the piercing howl of a wolf echoes through the air, not far from them. His hand slowly moves toward the hilt of his sword as he and Bilbo gaze around them.

It isn’t often that wolves come after hobbits (or dwarves) but the call was close enough to them that Bilbo supposes it is a bit of a worry. They stand still, listening for rustling or further howling, especially within the trees and bushes on the other side of the path. There is no sound near them but it is eerily silent all around, as if all other creatures have abandoned the area and Bilbo feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He grips his staff tighter in his hand.

Thorin unsheathes his sword and Bilbo thinks he must notice there is something not quite right in the air. “We should move on,” he mutters. “I do not see them but they are near.”

“There are pups,” Bilbo says breathlessly and turns toward a particularly large bush.

And suddenly a massive grey and snarling wolf leaps from behind the bush and lunges at Bilbo.

He raises his staff but Thorin gets to the wolf first, swinging his sword in a wide arch and the tip of it slices into the wolf’s hindquarters. It yelps, falling a few feet in front of Bilbo and turns toward Thorin with its teeth bared. Thorin readies his sword and they begin to charge each other at the same moment.

“Wait!” Bilbo cries but Thorin does not hear him.

The wolf falls, Thorin’s sword having slid through its rib cage like a knife through butter.

As sorrow begins to fill Bilbo’s heart, Thorin moves to shield him. “There is a pack!”

More wolves begin to emerge from the trees and they move to flank Thorin and Bilbo. Thorin growls and lifts his sword, which is steadily dripping blood on to the ground.

“Don’t,” Bilbo snaps. “They’re protecting their pups!”

“And we should let them kill us?” Thorin snaps back as he looks between the wolves.

Bilbo opens his mouth to answer but the wolves lunge and he raises his staff, swinging it and connecting with Thorin’s knees as he steps forward to meet a wolf head-on. The staff trips him up and the wolf narrowly misses his target and slides along the dirt as Thorin stumbles down on to one knee.

As Thorin roars at the wolves and Bilbo both, Bilbo raises his hand and arches his staff through the air.

Mighty roots raise from the ground and shoot outwards toward the wolves. The wolves startle but still attempt to attack Thorin and Bilbo, even as the roots begin to wrap around their legs. They yelp and snarl as they are taken down and restrained as the strong roots surround their bodies and hold them in place.

Bilbo lifts his staff straight into the air and brings the end of it down hard on to the ground.  
  
The wolves fall limp.

He sighs and looks at Thorin as he approaches him. “Are you alright?”

“You are a wizard!” Thorin all but shouts, standing quickly and whirling around to face Bilbo. His eyes look a bit wild and Bilbo stands his ground, prepared to defend himself if necessary. “You carry a magic staff, as the Grey Wizard does!”

“Do you know Gandalf?” Bilbo asks and flexes his fingers around his staff meaningfully. Its emerald stone is glittering at the top and Thorin’s eyes dart to it.

He seems to be doing some quick thinking as he tightly grips his sword. But finally he sighs, his posture relaxing. “I have only spoken with Gandalf once but I have heard tales of his great deeds throughout my life. I did not know there were other wizards… and not in the Shire at that.”

“There are six of us, you know, in all corners of the world,” Bilbo says. “Tasked with protecting Middle Earth as best we can. I rather thought the staff would give me away.”

“I assumed it was a walking stick.”

Bilbo looks at his staff, which is easily a head taller than him and topped with the emerald stone, and looks back at Thorin to raise an eyebrow.

Thorin rolls his eyes and turns to the wolves. “You killed them?”

“They’re asleep,” Bilbo says and sighs as he looks at the dead wolf. He approaches it and kneels. He rests his hand on its side and closes his eyes. He whispers a quiet prayer and opens his eyes to run the end of the staff along the wolf’s body.

It slowly fades into dirt, rejoining the earth.

He knows Thorin is watching him but he ignores him and walks over to another wolf. “Look there,” he says quietly and gestures with his staff toward the trees as he kneels.

In between two trees are three wolf pups, who are watching the scene with apprehension as their mother is among the sleeping wolves. They are too young to attempt any sort of attack and Bilbo turns away from them, hovering his hand over the top of the wolf’s head.

 _“Seere, mellon nin, seere,”_ he whispers.

The wolf’s eyes flutter open and meets Bilbo’s own, and there is a deep calm within them. The wolf simply gazes at Bilbo and he gazes back with a smile. He stands and steps away, waving his staff through the air before tapping it gently against the earth. The wolves all open their eyes as the roots holding them down turn to dust, freeing them. Thorin at his side tenses and raises his sword but Bilbo places a hand on his.

“Look.”

The wolves slowly stand as one and turn toward the trees. The lead wolf trots forward and meets the pups, who seem very glad to see her. They disappear through the trees together and the rest of the wolves follow, the last one looking back at Bilbo and meeting his eyes before he too disappears within the trees.

Bilbo sighs and smiles to himself. He turns to Thorin, who is peering at him with intense focus, his sword lowered toward the ground.

“They were simply protecting their young,” Bilbo says gently. “Wouldn’t you have?”

Thorin’s eyes remain unyielding until they suddenly soften and he inclines his head. He pulls out a cloth from an inner pocket of his coat and wipes his sword down before sheathing it. “You are one with nature. I did not know wizard’s could be so.”

“We all have certain talents,” Bilbo says and relaxes his shoulders now that it seems Thorin won’t be yelling at him again. “I’m fond of all living creatures.”

Thorin smiles. “I have seen it myself,” he says and looks at Bilbo with something akin to wonder. “You _are_ the Shire’s warrior.”

“The Shire is a peaceful place, Master Thorin. I haven’t needed to be a warrior. I only aid in chasing off the occasional wolf,” Bilbo says as he gestures around them. “Come along then and we’ll reach the Shire in time for dinner.”

Bilbo knows he’s not being entirely truthful and from the way Thorin gazes at him, he supposes he didn’t sound like it either.

He has been living on this earth for many thousands of years, building its gardens and healing its inhabitants. His work isn’t as expansive and wide reaching as Gandalf’s, perhaps, but as important, according to the Valar who created him and sent him here. There have been battles and wars in his time and he has had to fight more than he would ever like to admit, let alone remember. Friends and loved ones have been lost to war and the passage of time and Bilbo is far too old to dwell on it anymore. He keeps himself somewhat secluded in the Shire these days, and there are not many people alive who remember his greatest deeds.

Even if Gandalf likes to remind him of them whenever he visits.

Thorin and Bilbo set off again, more quiet this time as each think on what has happened. Thorin doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it and Bilbo senses those blue eyes lingering on him now and then and merely smiles to himself.

There is only the occasional conversation until they begin to pass signs for Hobbiton. Bilbo pointedly clears his throat each time they do and Thorin pointedly sighs in reply.

“Here we are,” Bilbo says when they crest a hill leading into Hobbiton proper, the familiar rolling hills and smials dotting the landscape bringing a fond smile to Bilbo’s lips. “Welcome to Hobbiton, Master Thorin. I live at the top of the hill.” He points across the village where the hill can be seen and looks at Thorin.

Thorin is looking back at him, a slight curve to his mouth. “Am I still invited to try your blue cheese?”

Bilbo laughs. “Of course. Why do you think you wouldn’t be?”

“I did not know if my slaying of the wolf would have changed that.”

“No,” Bilbo says quietly and shakes his head. “Sometimes it needs to be done when there is no time for anything else. I don’t blame you.” He pats Thorin’s arm and sets off down along the hill, raising his hand in greeting to any hobbits that call out to him.

They eye Thorin curiously but considering the types of visitors Bilbo has had in his day, they aren’t bothered by it. A few of the ladies even look particularly happy to see a dwarf.  
  
This dwarf anyway.

The green door of Bag End is soon within view and Bilbo leads Thorin up the hill just as the sun is beginning to set. He sighs in relief and gestures Thorin through the garden. “Right on time for dinner.”  
  
He steps through the garden and looks back at Thorin as he opens his front door. But Thorin is still standing just inside of his gate and looking slowly around the garden with his eyebrows raised.

“Ah,” Bilbo says and joins Thorin again, looking around. “Yes, it’s become quite something, hasn’t it?”

Thorin makes some sort of odd noise at this, something between amusement and disbelief.

The garden is a bit overgrown these days, Bilbo supposes. The grass is particularly high and green, and the stone steps leading to his front door are barely visible anymore. There is a mass of vines creeping along the trellises leaning against his smial, curling around the windowsills and reaching toward the sky. Trees follow his fence, apple and cherry, orange and lemon. There are numerous bushes and plants throughout his soil beds, all bearing heavy tomatoes and berries and peppers, ripe for the picking. The planters along the sides of his smial are filled with flowers, bright reds and purples, blues and yellows, whites and pinks. Some from far off places which, by all rights, should not grow in the Shire’s climate.

As Thorin had said – Bilbo is one with nature.

“Are the blackberries ripe?” Thorin asks after a while of gazing around.

“Oh, yes, everything is,” Bilbo says and gestures. “Feel free to take a handful, I don’t have any inside currently.”

Thorin does just that, carefully but eagerly, and Bilbo purses his lips so he won’t grin too openly. As Thorin begins to pop them into his mouth, Bilbo leads him into the smial and closes the door behind them.

“You can hang your coat and sword there. Put your pack anywhere,” he says and points at the hooks along the wall. “I was thinking of making a roast chicken with some vegetables from the garden.”

Thorin hangs his coat and sword obediently and looks around the smial with some surprise. “Warmth and comfort,” he murmurs quietly as follows Bilbo to the kitchen. “This is a fine home, Master Baggins. And what sounds like a fine meal will follow.”

“Oh, thank you,” Bilbo says, his ears a bit warm. “Let me get you an ale and some cheese.”

He gestures for Thorin to sit at the table as he fetches him a mug of ale and serves it to him and goes into the pantry to find a few blocks of cheese. He puts them on a board with salted meats and a fine cheese knife and sets it on the table in front of Thorin, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Am I to have an audience?” Thorin asks. His hearty chuckle rumbles in his chest and Bilbo realizes it's the first time he's heard Thorin laugh since they met.

“Well, I’d like to see your honest opinion,” Bilbo says with a grin.

Thorin smirks at him and turns to the blue cheese, taking up the knife and cutting off a piece. He eyes it as he turns it over in his hand, not looking particularly excited about trying it and gives it a sniff. He quickly pulls it back from his nose and gives Bilbo a flat look before he, bravely in Bilbo’s opinion, pops it into his mouth.

Bilbo bites his lip as he watches Thorin chew slowly with a stoic expression that doesn't give anything away. “…well?” he asks, the suspense a bit much for him.

Thorin lifts a finger as he swallows and sits quietly. Finally, he reaches forward and cuts off another piece. “I will have to sample the entire block before I can give you my verdict.”

Bilbo bursts into laughter and pats Thorin's shoulder before he turns to the kitchen to begin retrieving what he needs for their dinner. “Glad to hear it,” he says, attempting to keep a grin off his face.

This is very, very bad and he knows it.

“May I help?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. It won’t take me long to make dinner. It’ll be in the oven longer.”

Thorin seems happy enough for the chance to sample the different cheeses and meats and Bilbo firmly keeps his eyes on what he’s doing. He cuts root vegetables, carrots and onions and celery, and puts them in a pot with oil. He fetches a whole chicken and rubs butter and seasoning on it, the finest salt in all the Shire with rosemary and thyme, and stuffs garlic and onions inside of it. Once it is in the pot with the vegetables, he puts it into the oven and claps his hands together, turning to look at Thorin.

And what an expression is looking back at him. Thorin’s eyes are very soft and considering again as he watches Bilbo while drinking his ale. It’s enough to send Bilbo’s stomach roiling - not unpleasantly - and he clears his throat as he slides onto the bench across from Thorin.

“Enjoying my ale, Master Thorin?”

“Aye,” Thorin says, smiling a proper smile. “Thorin.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo repeats. “And I’m Bilbo to you.”

Thorin nods. “Bilbo then,” he says, his deep voice perfectly suited for saying Bilbo’s name.

Over and over again, Bilbo hopes.

Oh yes, this is very _not good._

Bilbo coughs a bit and cuts off a piece of sharp cheddar for himself to nibble on and looks anywhere but Thorin. He’s feeling much like a tween despite the fact that he never experienced being a tween and has had more than his fair share of dalliances and relationships throughout his life. He can’t quite remember a time that someone has ever made his heart beat as hard as it does now.

“Were you born in the Shire?” Thorin asks, breaking the somewhat companionable silence. “…are wizards born?”

“Oh,” Bilbo says and chuckles a bit. “In a way but certainly not a traditional way. No, I came to the Shire many years ago but I didn’t start here. Simply settled here.”

“Good,” Thorin says with so much honesty it takes Bilbo’s breath away. He smiles. “Gandalf is an old man, older than I suspect I can imagine. Are you the same?”

Bilbo nods, swallowing. “Yes, quite,” he says and feels terribly thirsty suddenly. “We were all sent here together many centuries ago. I am, in fact, older than dirt.”

Thorin laughs and regards Bilbo with a lovely grin. “You do not look it,” he says with an arched eyebrow. “Have you ever married?”

“Goodness no!” Bilbo says, laughing as well. “I’ve come close a few times, I suppose. And I’ve been proposed to more times than I can count. But it’s never really worked out. Not many people wish to spend their lifetime with someone that doesn’t grow old with them.”

Thorin’s eyes soften and he nods in understanding. “I imagine it is still worth knowing you.”

And what can Bilbo say to that? He smiles and looks down at the cheese board. “Some might say so. Others not so much,” he says and stands from the table. “I’m going to fetch that wine, I’ll be back shortly.”

He feels Thorin’s eyes on him as he leaves the kitchen and heads down to his cellar. Thorin might have been frightfully rude when they first encountered each other, but he has proven himself to be sharp, funny and polite and Bilbo wonders what it is that he’s getting himself into exactly. Thorin will go back to Ered Luin after his meeting, he imagines, but he thinks that it may just be worth knowing him as well before he goes.

Bilbo fetches the wine and goes into the kitchen to grab a glass and pour himself some. He rejoins Thorin at the table and the conversation becomes less intimate, moving on to subjects such as gardening and healing, smithing and mining. It’s fascinating to hear things about Thorin’s life back in Ered Luin, even if Bilbo suspects he’s omitting quite a lot about himself. He’s sure Thorin has his reasons, just as he has his own and merely asks him questions about his family, his sister and nephews.

The chicken is ready before Bilbo expects it to be and he realizes how absorbed he had been by Thorin. He fetches the chicken and lets it sit while he cuts into a sourdough bread loaf to serve with it alongside freshly churned butter and honey. Once the chicken has cooled, he cuts into its golden brown skin and serves a heaping plateful with vegetables to Thorin.

They eat together, Bilbo’s manners impeccable and Thorin’s not so much. Bilbo begins to wonder when the last time Thorin had gotten a decent meal was and merely watches him in amusement, not bothering to reprimand him for the crumbs and messy fingers.

When they are done, Thorin helps Bilbo to put away leftovers and his arm brushes Bilbo's at the sink as they wash the dishes.

“You’re welcome to stay here tonight,” Bilbo says quietly as he sets aside a plate to dry. “It would be more comfortable than the Green Dragon.”

Thorin pauses in his scrubbing before resuming and hands a fork to Bilbo. “If it is no bother, I would like that,” he murmurs.

Bilbo nods to himself and dries the next few dishes. “I’ll show you around the smial and if you aren’t ready to turn in yet since it is a bit early still, perhaps we can share a smoke in front of the fire. You do smoke, don’t you?”

“I do,” Thorin agrees easily. “I would not have parted with my pipe on my journey either.”

“Good!” Bilbo says and washes his hands once they are done with the dishes.

He shows Thorin out of the kitchen and leads him on a small tour to the sitting room and smoke room, as well as his second pantry and cellar. He walks past his study, not intending to show it, but Thorin stops him and enters, looking around in awe.

There are quite a few relics of long passed times on shelves lining the walls, as well as numerous bookshelves overflowing with very old books. There are swords and helms, daggers and mail, as well as small sculptures and elegant jewelry. Thorin reaches for some things but never quite touches them and walks slowly around the room. When he finally comes to stand in front of Bilbo again, he is smiling.

“You are full of surprises, Master Baggins.”

“Oh, well… simply full of a lot of time, I suspect,” Bilbo says, coughing. “But I’m glad you like it.”

“I do,” Thorin says, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “I never thought to like a wizard. Not even one that saved my life with his magic.”

“I suppose it just goes to show you shouldn’t judge anyone based on first impressions,” Bilbo says, gesturing for Thorin to follow. “And what’s so wrong with wizards, hmm?”

“They do not like to tell the entire truth, I think,” Thorin says as he follows Bilbo. “That was my experience with Gandalf the Grey.”

Bilbo laughs. “Well, yes, I suppose if he’s your only experience with wizards, you might feel that way. Gandalf never tells the entire truth, not even to his own kind! He enjoys himself much more that way,” he says as he leads Thorin down the hall to a spare bedroom. He opens the door and gestures inside. “This is your room for the night.”

Thorin smiles. “Thank you,” he says and steps into the room to look around. “There is no comfort not thought of in this home.”

“Certainly not! Including the washroom, which is there,” Bilbo says as he points across the hall. “You’re more than welcome to it whenever you’d like.”

Thorin inclines his head. “I will settle myself for the night and join you for a smoke soon.”

Bilbo nods and leaves Thorin to it and heads into his sitting room. He fetches his pipe from the mantle and packs it, lighting it with a flick of his finger, as well as the hearth. He sits in his favorite armchair and as he stretches his toes towards the growing fire, he thinks of Thorin.

Perhaps there truly is no harm in enjoying himself for one night with no lasting attachment. Even if he wouldn’t particularly mind if there was, but he won’t be admitting that anytime soon.  
  
Thorin joins him after a while. His pipe already lit and he sits in the armchair across from Bilbo’s. He looks fine in his blue shirt, even if Bilbo can only see glimpses of it underneath his thin leather armor. His belt buckle is large and made of steel with distinctly dwarven angles and Bilbo thinks he has never seen such a handsome person before. When he meets Thorin’s eyes again, it is to see that Thorin is watching him in return, with the same look that Bilbo thinks he might be wearing himself.

Bilbo puffs on his pipe and slowly blows the smoke between them. It forms a small dwarf with a sword, who swings it in the same sort of wide arch Thorin had swung his own in earlier that day.

Thorin watches with his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows raised. When the smoke dissipates, he looks back at Bilbo and begins to grin. “You might tell stories that way.”

“I do!” Bilbo says, chuckling. “To all of the fauntlings in the Shire. Sometimes their parents too. Brings them a bit more life, if I may say so.”

“I imagine it does,” Thorin says warmly. “The Shire must be fond of you.”

“I suppose,” Bilbo says as his cheeks heat up. “I’m fond of the Shire as well and all of its inhabitants. I used to travel quite often but I’ve never found a place I love quite as much as these green hills.”

“Have you ever been to a dwarf dwelling?”

Bilbo chuckles. “Indeed I have! In the White Mountains and to a lonely peak in the east a very long time ago. Beautiful cities. Wonderful architecture.”

Thorin silently stares, puffing on his pipe. “A lonely peak,” he repeats quietly. “The Lonely Mountain?”

“Yes, indeed. Erebor,” Bilbo says, sighing. “A shame what happened to it.”

“Aye,” Thorin murmurs and looks to the fire. “A shame. It was the greatest kingdom in Middle Earth before its downfall.”

“It was unlike anything I had ever seen. I quite liked it. Green marble, diamonds never hewn shining throughout its walls… the staircases and homes and shops. Very lovely craftsmanship.”

Thorin nods slowly. “A wondrous place,” he says. “Who ruled when you were there?”

“Goodness,” Bilbo says and narrows his eyes as he thinks. “It’s been a very long time… let’s see… I do believe it was Nain I.”

Thorin gapes at him, his eyes wide. “A very long time, indeed. You saw Erebor in some of its most prosperous times under Nain I. I would have liked to have seen it.”

“It’s too bad you can’t,” Bilbo says. “Erebor would suit you, I think.”

A small smile comes to Thorin’s lips and he inclines his head. “Aye, I think it would have,” he says and puffs on his pipe again. “Can you show me the Lonely Mountain?”

Bilbo smiles in return. “I can certainly try,” he says and lifts his pipe to his lips. He thinks for a moment of the wonder and awe he felt when first approaching the mountain and blows out smoke. It forms a magnificent peak, covered in snow with great gates at the bottom, guarded by stone dwarven sentinels.

Thorin gazes at it and Bilbo suddenly wonders if his eyes are suspiciously bright or if it's a trick of the light. But Thorin blinks and looks at Bilbo once the smoke has gone.

“As I always imagine it.”

“Good,” Bilbo says softly and leans back in his chair.

They spend some time in a comfortable silence, looking between the hearth and each other, not bothering to hide a lingering gaze here and there. Thorin is stunningly beautiful in the firelight, which enchantingly turns the silver in his hair and beard bright white. His hooded blue eyes are shadowed by the lack of light but are no less intense for that, and communicate all that he is not saying.

Bilbo finishes his pipe and knocks out the ashes before folding his hands in his lap. “I think I might turn in early tonight. It’s been a day filled with quite a lot of walking. For both of us, I think.”

Thorin nods. “Aye, that it has,” he says as he finishes his own pipe. “Perhaps turning in early is not a bad idea.”

“Perhaps you’d like to join me.”

Thorin gazes at him, searching Bilbo’s face as if looking for something again. He must find it because he begins to smile. “I would like that,” he says, his voice a bit hoarse.

They stand from their chairs and deposit their pipes on the mantle. Bilbo smiles at Thorin and begins to walk down the hall with Thorin at his heels. He leads Thorin to his bedroom and steps inside, looking around his thankfully tidy room before turning to face him again.

“I don’t do this often, you know.”

“Neither do I.”

“Good. Close the door, will you? It’s letting in a bit of a draft.”

Thorin does.

——  
  
Morning comes bright and early, with much fumbling and feather soft kisses in the warm morning sun. It seems to only be with a gargantuan effort that they are able to separate long enough to simply lay in bed on their backs, with their shoulders pressed together and fingers intertwined.

“Good morning,” Bilbo says as he looks at Thorin with a smile.

Thorin smiles lazily in return and squeezes Bilbo’s hand. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

“Would have been better if you hadn’t woken me up in the middle of the blasted night twice.”

“Hmm… I did not hear much complaining.”

Bilbo chuckles. “No, I suppose you didn’t,” he says as he looks at the ceiling. “You snore, you know.”

“Not as loudly as my sister does.”

“Goodness,” Bilbo says as he laughs. “It wasn’t that loud. Much more endearing that way.”

Thorin rolls onto his side and props himself up on his elbow, his eyes flitting along Bilbo’s face. “You sleep soundly and quietly. Peacefully. I envy you.”

“Nightmares?” Bilbo asks, familiar enough with the slightly haunted look in Thorin’s eyes from some of his patients of a long time ago, in lands very far away.

“Some,” Thorin says and leans in to bump his forehead against Bilbo’s. “None last night.”

Bilbo nods and runs his fingers lightly through Thorin’s hair. “Good,” he says with a smile. “A fair night of sleep can only be followed up by one thing, you know…”

“I am afraid I am spent for a few hours yet, Master Baggins.”

“I meant breakfast,” Bilbo says with a grin.

Thorin chuckles and nods, placing a soft kiss to Bilbo’s brow. “Very well. I would like to enjoy breakfast with you… and lunch, perhaps.”

“And afternoon tea! You said your meeting wasn’t until tonight?”

“Aye.”

“Then we have time,” Bilbo says as he pats Thorin’s arm. “Up with you and we’ll see about finding some bacon and eggs.”

Thorin hums agreeably and they slide out of bed together, using the washroom and dressing quickly. Bilbo makes tea after sending Thorin into the pantry to bring out whatever he’d like for breakfast and isn’t entirely surprised when he returns with eggs, bacon and two types of sausage, as well as buttermilk biscuits. He simply smiles and begins to cook, whipping up a quick sausage gravy to smother their biscuits in.

Thorin hovers nearby as he cooks, occasionally brushing his hand along Bilbo’s hip, who in turn tries to focus on not burning the bacon. But soon enough Thorin is sufficiently distracted by breakfast being served. He drops crumbs everywhere and licks grease from his lips rather than wiping it off like any civilized person might.

Bilbo watches him and does not think about the coming evening. Does not think about never seeing Thorin again. He has been given a gift, he thinks, one that he might cherish for a long while yet.

“I was thinking about doing some gardening,” he says once they are done and are digesting with cups of black tea.

“Would you like help?”

“Do you know how to garden?”

“Gardens require pruning?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then no.”

Bilbo snickers and grins, shaking his head. “I’ll show you how then. After me, silly dwarf.”

They leave their chairs with a bit of groaning but soon the sun will rise higher in the sky and Bilbo won’t particularly feel like gardening at all. He leads Thorin outside and begins to show him how to prune the tomatoes and search for any pests that might be eating the fruit. He leaves him a water pail for when he is done and goes to the herbs lining his windowsill with small shears to cut away some growth.

After a while, when Bilbo has tended to the flowers and picked quite a few blackberries and raspberries, Thorin is still working on the tomatoes. He looks nothing but at peace, however, rather than frustrated as Bilbo might have thought he’d be. Bilbo watches him for a few moments, smiling to himself before he finishes up his pruning of the bell pepper plants.

“Can you not use magic for this?” Thorin asks when he is done, sitting back on his heels and looking around the garden.

“Magic is in a person’s touch,” Bilbo says and smiles at Thorin. “Water break?”

Thorin nods gratefully and leaves a smear of soil on his forehead as he wipes the sweat off. Bilbo tells him to sit on the smoking bench and goes inside to get a water pitcher and glasses, as well as their pipes from the mantle. He brings them out on a tray and sets it on the ground in front of the bench. He pours Thorin a glass of cool water and watching as he drinks it down before he sits.

Bilbo sips on his own glass and then packs his pipe, lighting both his and Thorin’s, and they sigh together after they breathe in their first puff of smoke.

And if Bilbo sneaks a few peeks at Thorin, whose eyes are closed and turned up toward the sun, well, surely no one can blame him. He smiles to himself and closes his own eyes, tilting his face up toward the sun as well.

“Well now, this is a pleasant surprise!” a voice says.

Bilbo and Thorin startle and look quickly at the gate. Bilbo gasps as Thorin says, “Gandalf,” in surprise.

Indeed, there is a towering wizard on the other side of the gate, who has managed to sneak up on the both of them. He is wearing his pointy hat and grey robes as always and is smiling cheerfully.

“Good, good,” he says. “Then you have informed Bilbo.”

“…informed Bilbo of what?” Thorin asks dryly.

Bilbo’s brain is steadily catching up. “Gandalf! What on earth are you doing here? And yes, informed Bilbo of what?”

Gandalf peers between them with his eyebrows raised quite high and a slight frown on his face. It slowly melts away to something a bit more mischievous, his eyes twinkling, which never bodes well for Bilbo.

“I hadn’t yet had time to put the mark on the door.”

“Mark on what door?” Bilbo squawks. “Certainly you weren’t going to put anything on my door!” He looks at Thorin. “Do you know what he’s… Thorin?”

Thorin does look rather stunned now that Bilbo is looking at him. He is gaping unblinkingly at Gandalf and only startles when Bilbo touches his arm. His mouth snaps shut and he stares at Bilbo.

“You!”

Bilbo’s feeling a bit of déjà vu. “Erm, yes, me,” he says and narrows his eyes suspiciously between Thorin and Gandalf. “What am I missing?”

“My dear boy, Thorin and his company are due to meet you this evening. I see that you have found Thorin before he could find you, however,” Gandalf says merrily, gazing between them with something frighteningly like delight. “I suppose he could not determine you were the hobbit to answer his question.”

It's Bilbo's turn to gape at Gandalf and he blinks at him for a while before he turns to Thorin. “You were supposed to meet me?” he asks quietly and turns to Gandalf. “What, on your suggestion?”

“Indeed,” Thorin says even more dryly. “Yet he did not inform me of the name of the hobbit I was to be meeting.”

It makes sense then for Thorin to not have had complete trust in a wizard who would not even name the person he was to seek out. Bilbo blushes and coughs, putting out his pipe.

“I… I see,” he says, entirely flustered. “Yes, Thorin and I met yesterday on the road and I showed him into, erm… Hobbiton. Goodness! What are the chances.” He laughs nervously and tries not to think about exactly where Thorin’s mouth had been a few hours prior. “What, ah… what is your question exactly?”

“Perhaps that would be best discussed inside, dear fellow. And with a glass of wine, I think,” Gandalf says as he invites himself into the garden.

Thorin nods in agreement and squeezes Bilbo’s shoulder, his own cheeks stained pink. “Gandalf is right. About many things, it seems,” he mumbles as he stands and offers a hand to Bilbo.

Bilbo is immensely curious as to what Thorin could mean and takes his hand. He leads Gandalf and Thorin inside and hurries to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine, deciding to take tea himself. He is frightfully nervous and tries not to show it. Gandalf bringing Thorin and, apparently, his company here doesn’t sound as if it’s for any small matter. And he does just so happen to be a wizard who is known for helping people.

What on earth has Gandalf signed him up for?

Once they sit at the table with their respective drinks, Bilbo eyes Gandalf and Thorin expectantly.

“He is perfect,” Thorin blurts suddenly. He looks a bit shocked at himself and his cheeks turn red as he clears his throat. “For the role, that is. A good choice.”

Gandalf chuckles delightedly. “My thoughts exactly!”

Bilbo gapes between them. “And what role are we talking about? I would like for this to be explained to me before I kick both of you out on your arses!”

Thorin sits up straight and inclines his head. “My apologies,” he mumbles. “My company and I are going on a quest.”

“A quest,” Bilbo repeats faintly.

“Aye,” Thorin says and looks a bit more uncomfortable now. “A quest to reclaim Erebor.”

“Reclaim… reclaim Erebor?!” Bilbo cries as he stares at Thorin. “From _Smaug?_ The _dragon?”_

Thorin nods. “Aye. And we are in need of a burglar.”

“Oh goodness,” Bilbo whispers as he rests his hand over his forehead, attempting to process quite a few different things at once. “…and I suppose Gandalf volunteered myself for the job.” He glowers at Gandalf who has the good sense to look mildly sheepish. Only mildly though. “And what, pray tell, makes you think I would even agree to such a foolish quest?”

“It is not foolish,” Thorin says more sternly. “It is a noble quest and it is long overdue. Erebor belongs to dwarves, not wyrms. We must rid the mountain of Smaug and take back the east.”

“And who are you to decide that?” Bilbo asks just as sternly. “The mountain belongs to the line of Durin.”

“Ahem,” Gandalf clears his throat as he shifts uneasily in his chair and shoots Thorin an exasperated look. “I suppose you did not bother to tell him that either! Bilbo, you are speaking with Thorin, second of his name, of the line of Durin. The rightful king to the throne.”

Bilbo stares very hard in disbelief between Thorin and Gandalf as he squeezes the tea cup in his hands entirely too firmly.

Thorin is attempting to look regal, Bilbo can tell, but considering the amount of fear in his eyes, he is failing. He glares a little at Thorin, then at Gandalf, and huffs.

“Of course you’re the bloody King of Erebor, why wouldn’t you be,” Bilbo mumbles. “Only my personal brand of luck would lead you to me.” He is still glowering as he sips his tea. “I do understand why you didn’t tell me, Thorin. You, however,” he growls as he looks at Gandalf. “You should have written me! You were simply going to drop a king in my lap! And who knows how many others!”

Gandalf harrumphs. “If I had written you, you would not have been here when I came,” he says insightfully. “You must hear what Thorin and I have to say about this matter, Bilbo Baggins. The very fate of Middle Earth might depend on it.”

Bilbo groans loudly as he looks up toward the ceiling. “Of course it does!” he says, throwing his arms in the air. “Why wouldn’t it. Does he speak the truth or is he simply being dramatic?” he demands of Thorin.

Thorin smiles vaguely. “There is some truth to the matter though I cannot know the future Gandalf speaks of.”

“Well then, tell me what on earth is going on, Gandalf, that you’ve come to disturb my peace.”

So Gandalf does. It’s a lovely tale of death and destruction, of evil enemies and war. Erebor seems to be a key point in the east and Smaug joining with the enemy that is gaining power promises the mass destruction of many civilizations. Gandalf thinks the evil would eventually creep west, perhaps touching the borders of the Shire in the years to come and Bilbo has no choice but to listen to him. He hasn’t been involved in the affairs of the world in many hundreds of years but that is because it has mostly been at a hard won peace.

He listens as he sips his tea and glances at Thorin occasionally, who only chimes in briefly when Gandalf speaks of Erebor. A king! Bilbo has met plenty of those and yet this time it is vastly different. This is a king without a throne who wishes to take back his home. Bilbo can understand that.

“I assume you’re to be on this quest as well?” Bilbo asks mildly when Gandalf is done speaking.

Gandalf nods. “Yes. We will both be needed on the road to and from Erebor, old friend."

Bilbo sighs and leans back in his chair, gazing at Gandalf’s intense eyes before looking at Thorin. “And you think I’m a good fit, do you?”

“You are a wizard,” Thorin says quietly. “A fighter. A hobbit. A… a friend. I do, Bilbo.”

He coughs a little and looks down at the table. “I’ve got a life here, you know. A well-established life, with many people that depend on me.”

“And they will be protected while you are gone and here once you return,” Gandalf says softly with a smile. “We do not leave until the morning, dear fellow. You have some time to come to the right decision.”

Bilbo rolls his eyes. “Only the morning, hmm?” he says dryly. He looks at Thorin and sees him in both a new and familiar light. He does indeed seem very kingly but Bilbo feels as if he knows his heart as well. A good, true one at that. “And what if I don’t come back?”

“You will,” Thorin says immediately and with strong conviction. “I know you will.”

Bilbo watches Thorin’s eyes and sees the belief behind them. He sighs again and smiles a little. “Give me the night to think on it. It’s quite a lot to process, you know.”  
  
Thorin nods. “That it is,” he agrees with a small smile of his own. “If you have any questions, Bilbo, I will answer them.”

“Unlike a certain someone I know,” Bilbo mutters as he glares at Gandalf, who merely inspects the ceiling with interest. “What time are the others coming?”

“Ah! Not until this evening; they are still traveling here. Thorin’s meeting in the north led him to be here earlier, I assume,” Gandalf says, to which Thorin nods. “Hmm, yes, good. I have business of my own to conduct, including rounding up our transportation. I shall return this evening with your remaining guests.”

Bilbo sighs and nods as he stands to walk Gandalf out. He nearly smacks into the chandelier above the doorway but narrowly misses it and says his goodbyes. Bilbo closes the door after him and leans back against it, looking at Thorin in the doorway.

“You were keeping many secrets.”

Thorin nods and stepping closer reaches for Bilbo’s hand. “Aye,” he murmurs. “Secrets that I must keep from most.”

“A good idea, I suppose,” Bilbo says as he takes Thorin’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Who else is coming along on this quest?”

“Friends and subjects and some family. My nephews, though my sister was not happy to be parted from her sons,” Thorin says with a small smile. “But they are skilled warriors and if I cannot have an army, I would have them.”

“How old are they exactly?”

“Seventy-five and eighty.”

Bilbo nods. “At least they’re of age,” he says. “I’d say no if they weren’t.”

Thorin chuckles. “I would not have brought them if they were not, no matter how they begged,” he says and begins to tug Bilbo along with him. “They never knew Erebor and they deserve to see her in all her glory.”

Bilbo follows Thorin to the sitting room. “They’ll love it as much as you do, I imagine,” he says as they take their seat in the armchairs. “What will you do when you’ve won Erebor back?”

“Rebuild,” Thorin smiles. “Rebuild and fill the mountain with life. Restore her to what she was in Nain’s time. And rule as my grandfather once did.”

“Good,” Bilbo says. “And perhaps take a consort?”

Thorin laughs. “My nephews are my heirs. I have no need for a consort,” he says with a bit of a smirk. “No matter how many my advisors will no doubt throw at me.”

Bilbo chuckles. “I suppose it’s good you have the boys then,” he says. “I’m looking forward to meeting them.”

Thorin’s eyes soften. “They will like you,” he says. “As I do. …perhaps not as I do.”

“I certainly hope not,” Bilbo says, laughing. “Tell me about them.”

Thorin does, with much fondness and pride. He tells Bilbo of their childhoods, growing up fatherless for most of it but raised by their strong, steady mother. He tells Bilbo stories of their mischief and yet growing maturity and Bilbo watches him with a small smile. There is clear love between them and he is glad Thorin will have them in Erebor if all goes well.

Stories about Fili and Kili seem to inevitably lead into stories about dwarves named Dwalin and Balin and soon enough Bilbo is immersed in stories of Thorin’s entire company. He knows most of the dwarves well with a fair few being his cousins, but others he is familiar with because of their loyalty in Ered Luin. They sound fascinating and capable and Thorin seems to think thirteen dwarves such as them are all that is needed to take back Erebor.

Bilbo dearly hopes so.

They eat luncheon and spend the rest of their day inside snacking on more meats and cheeses, drinking ale and tea, and reading tales to each other out of books they each choose. It is peaceful. The calm before the storm, perhaps.

When afternoon tea is finished, Bilbo starts cooking with Thorin’s help. He has a chicken and roast he can have ready, along with all of the other salted meats and vegetables in his pantry, as Thorin has informed him his dwarves will be hungry. Thorin proves competent enough in the kitchen and much of their time spent in there is filled with laughter and stolen kisses.

The moon rises in the sky and Bilbo notices a bit of a shift in Thorin’s mood. He becomes quieter and seems to be in deep thought though he still smiles at Bilbo as warmly as he has been for the whole day when he speaks with him. Bilbo suspects this is Thorin’s version of nerves and doesn’t intrude much, simply setting his large dining table with plates and mugs and glasses.

The first knock startles Bilbo and he glances at Thorin, who merely nods at him.

Bilbo answers the door a few times that night. First for Dwalin, a truly giant dwarf who looks a bit frightening but is pleased to see Thorin is already there. If they neglect to mention he has been there since yesterday, well, that’s their business.

Balin is next, a kindly older dwarf with a smile for Bilbo and his king, as well as a knock to the head for his brother. Fili and Kili follow and they are just as bright and funny as Thorin had said they were, even if Kili tries to wipe mud off on Bilbo’s dearly departed friend’s glory box. But Thorin orders Fili to look after his own swords and their smiles at Bilbo take on a much more respectful edge after that.

The rest of the dwarves follow in a bit of a heap, along with Gandalf, and soon they are ravaging the food he has put out for them - Thorin included and it is very amusing to watch him grapple with Dwalin about who gets the last roast chicken leg. Gandalf mentions that this is a merry gathering for them but Bilbo doesn’t need to be told. He can see the camaraderie and respect between all of them and watches on with a smile, as fondness grows in his heart, along with a sense of adventure.

He is introduced to the dwarves after their meals have been eaten and the dishes have been washed. Most don’t seem particularly sure about him until Thorin informs them he is a wizard like Gandalf. This seems to drastically improve their opinions of him, much to Bilbo’s amusement. He is sure to mention he is still deciding on his part in the quest but this seems to only inspire each dwarf to come to him in turn to try and get him to come.

“It’ll be wonderful, Mister Boggins! With two wizards, we have no chance of failing!”

“Even if you haven’t actually slayed dragons before!”

That’s Kili and Fili and Bilbo watches them nod eagerly and grin and cajole him more until one word from Dwalin has them scampering off.

“But you should come. He believes in you,” Dwalin mutters out of the corner of his mouth, glaring suspiciously before he too is off.

“Ignore my brother,” Balin says, materializing at Bilbo’s side. “He simply wonders how it can be that our king trusts you so soon after meeting you.” He is gazing steadily at Bilbo with a rather knowing glint in his eye.

Bilbo coughs. “Well, I am a wizard,” he says vaguely. “Unlike Gandalf half of the time, I can be trusted.”

Balin chuckles and pats Bilbo on the shoulder. “I do see what he likes in you.”

And then he is off too.

“Dwarves,” Bilbo mumbles as he wanders the halls and makes sure that his guests are comfortable and well stocked up on ale.

They have an early morning and Bilbo shows them to guest rooms, playing along when Balin suggests Thorin should have a room to himself. He suspects Thorin will be sharing his own room and that the bed will go to waste but hurries away from Balin’s raised eyebrows.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Ori says, bowing repeatedly to Bilbo until he is able to wave him off.  
  
“You’re a good lad, Bilbo!” Bofur cheers as he saunters off to join his brother and cousin in a spare bedroom.

Once the dwarves are out of his hair, Bilbo sighs and leans against the wall in the hallway, feeling rather wrung out from his day.

“Are you well?”

That is a voice he could listen to for the rest of his life, he thinks, and he ignores the twinge in his heart as he turns to Thorin with a smile. “I’m alright. A bit tired,” he admits. He looks up and down the hall and reaches for Thorin, touching his arm. “Your dwarves are very kind and… mostly considerate.”

Thorin chuckles. “As are most dwarves,” he says and steps closer to Bilbo. He rests his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and peers at him with his forget-me-not eyes with a soft smile on his lips. “Come to bed?”

Bilbo nods, his stomach roiling anxiously. He doubts he will sleep tonight, haunted by a decision he must make, but perhaps it will not be as miserable lying beside Thorin. “To bed,” he says and follows Thorin down the hall and into his bedroom.

They peer out of the door to make sure they aren’t being watched and close and lock it. Bilbo wonders why he is even surprised when Thorin wraps his arms around him and pulls him into a fierce and passionate kiss. It is filled with only one type of heat, the kind that comes from within Thorin, that resides in his heart, in his very blood.

Bilbo holds on to Thorin tightly as they kiss. They only part when they need to breathe and Bilbo gently pants against Thorin's lips. “This won’t sway me either way,” he warns though he suspects his heart has already chosen.

“I know,” Thorin murmurs with a smile and places a gentler kiss to Bilbo’s lips. “But if I am to never see you again, I will have you remember me.”

“As if I could ever forget you anyway,” Bilbo huffs and wraps his arms around Thorin’s middle. He rests his head on his chest and listens to his steady heartbeat as he gazes into the hearth in the center of his room. “I have so much here,” he whispers. “But the road has given me so much in the past as well. And the people I’ve met on it.”

Thorin says nothing for a while as he rubs Bilbo’s back. “Will you travel the road with me?” he asks very quietly.

Bilbo looks up at him and sees nothing but affection, gratitude and something else too soon to name looking back at him. He smiles, wondering if it will be his downfall.

“I will.”

And it seems Thorin has no words left, as he simply gathers Bilbo up in his arms again and kisses him deeply.

Soon they are leaning back against the rounded headboard of the bed with their hands intertwined. And Thorin begins to sing, his voice deep, sorrowful but still with a thread of hope.

_“Far over the Misty Mountains cold…”_

**Author's Note:**

> A second fic in less than a week, who even am I?! I hope you all like it, I very much enjoyed working on it. c:
> 
> Shout out to [Erin](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angelsallfire) and [salsedine](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/salsedine) for their wonderful words.
> 
> To [washcare](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/washcare) for one of the most kind and encouraging messages I've ever gotten in my life. Thank you.
> 
> And of course to my amazingly awesome beta and good friend [telltalelily](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/telltalelily) for all that she has done. Truly, y'all. She's perfect.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)
> 
> Edit: Please check out a commission I got done [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19822024) and give lots of kudos to luluxa!!


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